


swerve city

by ghostheart



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Pre-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 11:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostheart/pseuds/ghostheart
Summary: When he applies, it has nothing to do with her. It has nothing to do with the day he found her.Nothing at all.





	swerve city

※

“Here,” she says, thrusting the wad of cash into his outstretched hand.

He wonders what the rest of the Iruma family thinks their daughter is spending their money on. He can imagine her urbane and stately mother sitting at home, legs crossed on their soft white sofa, smiling to herself at the image of Miu cruising around Ginza and Shibuya and selecting imported pieces with a discerning eye. Jewelry, leather, silk dresses — that’s what a girl of Miu’s age and status wants.

But she’s here with her bills and twinkling blue eyes, eyes that have seen next to nothing of the world beyond her home.

He makes a show of flipping through the bills to make sure it’s all there. He knows it’s there, and then some.

“Try to make this one last longer than a week, idiot.” He leans in casually and reaches around her hip to deposit the small plastic bag into her purse.

“Thanks, Gonta-kun,” she lilts. “It’s much appreciated.”

“Yeah. Any time,” he replies without thinking.

※

If he had to tell the truth, he couldn’t say he has a good reason for doing it. He isn’t poor. He doesn’t intend to wreck anyone’s life. He isn’t part of the yakuza or any other gang. He just has this thing, this thing that’s coveted by many and possessed by few, and he doesn’t need it, so why not part with it for a price?

Sometimes he feels bad. Then he sees Miu Iruma’s naive blue eyes and the guilt dissolves like melted snow sluicing into sewage.

※

When he doesn’t see her in their classroom three minutes before it starts, his heart ricochets into his stomach. She’s always there at least five minutes before — never more, never less.

He has a hunch.

He offhandedly tells one of their classmates that he isn’t feeling well, and if the teachers asks, he’s in the bathroom. She nods without looking at him.

He traipses through the hallways and tries to ignore his racing heart. Class is starting; no one is in the halls.

Nausea ravages him as he reaches the girls’ bathroom. He looks once — twice — and then again to ensure that the hallways are empty before crossing the threshold.

“Iruma?” he calls out, no more gently than he ever would. Silence. No, not silence — there’s a sound coming from one of the stalls, a rhythmic beating against the wall, the clenching and unclenching of the throat.

The better part of him screams for him to turn back and return to the classroom, but the visceral part of him is already opening the door.

Iruma’s golden hair is splayed around her like a shattered halo.

Her eyes are rolled back, with only her whites exposed — her muscles are quadrisected, with each fourth doing its best to get away from the others. A thin streak of blood cascades from her lip as her head lolls back and forth against the wall behind her.

He loses his footing and backs into the wall, seeking purchase to keep himself from falling. 

He steals away into the boys’ bathroom and stumbles into a stall with nary a moment to spare before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Tell someone. It’s not hard. She could die in there. Iruma isn’t the type of person to snitch. It’s not hard. What did she ever do to him?

But the idea is so unpalatable that his very soul rebels against it — a fact that almost shocks him with disgust.

So he’d rather her die than have himself get caught. That’s just the kind of person he is — this revelation shouldn’t be surprising. It should have been something he’d made peace with long ago.

He splashes cold water on his face. There are no mirrors in this bathroom; he’s grateful for that much.

Gokuhara emerges and walks back to class. The student must have dutifully informed the teacher because he doesn’t look up when he enters the classroom while they’re in session.

He says nothing; does nothing; thinks nothing.

※

He tosses and turns, a fine sheen of cold sweat coating his body, matting his long hair to his forehead.

When he’s given the questionable gift of sleep, he can only see her blank eyes: the eyes of an _onryou_ out to avenge herself.

※

When he sees her at school the next day, it’s as though nothing happened. It’s as though everything he saw was a figment of his paranoid imagination.

“Gonta-kun,” she calls out as she strides in his direction. She’s as perky as ever.

He made a resolution to acknowledge her as minimally as possible. He nods and remains silent.

Her eyebrows crease in exasperation and she plants her hands on her hips when she catches up to him.

“Excuse me. Why are you ignoring me?”

“Because I don’t have what you want.”

“Are you lying to me? You’re lying to me. You’re that kind of person, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you. I’m not selling anymore, anyway,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “So how about you run along and fucking study for once?”

“Don’t talk to me that way. I was the one lining your pockets, you degenerate.”

 _I saw you, you dumb bitch._ He wants to say those words, slap her across the face with them. She still looks at him with the same clueless eyes. He wants to spoon them out of her skull. He starts walking away because he just might do it.

“Whatever. Looks like you’re gonna have to find someone else.”

Now her exasperation is morphing into desperation. He can hear it in her voice.

“I don’t get it. What made you stop all of a sudden? Now where am I supposed to go?”

He clenches and unclenches his fist, takes a deep breath. Looks over his shoulders and into those eyes.

“You know where you’re supposed to go.”

※

When he applies, it has nothing to do with her. It has nothing to do with the day he found her.

Nothing at all.


End file.
